


oh please, don't ask me how i've been

by simplymellifluous



Category: Video Blogging RPF, oneyplays
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chris O'Neill - Freeform, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hugs, Jeff Bandelin - Freeform, Kissing, Light Angst, Like A Lot Of Hugging, M/M, Mention of Making Out, Moving Out, Niall Murray - Freeform, Rants about 7-11, Requited Love, Sleepycabin - Freeform, all mentioned but not actually in the story, but like 2018 era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23654392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplymellifluous/pseuds/simplymellifluous
Summary: He feels stupid, small, like a little kid who had to call his mom after pissing his pants at a birthday party. That birthday party was annoying as hell anyway. He was just invited because he was in third grade too. Who even names a kid Hunter? Fuck fuck fuck. Focus. Stop stop stop. Stamper guesses an internal mantra will stop his lungs from burning, but they continue until his door vibrates with two solid, pensive knocks.((very roughly inspired by fake happy by paramore))(also very niche ship)
Relationships: Mick Lauer/Will Stamper, Ricepirate/Stamper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	oh please, don't ask me how i've been

The second Mick parks in his driveway, Stamper sobs. It’s one of those heaving, thick sobs that feels like someone’s stepping on his chest. He blots his eyes quickly with the hem of his shirt but another series of sobs kick him forward, his head to his knees.

Why did he call Mick? Of all people, Mick was easily the worst to call. Why? Because he would actually help the situation. Besides the fact that a homeless woman took over his house and almost killed him with hitmen, and the fact that he was getting increasingly worse with his alcohol intake, everything was fine. Stamper could take care of it. And he could _definitely_ handle moving out of his house. Kinda. Except he wanted Mick to help.

He feels stupid, small, like a little kid who had to call his mom after pissing his pants at a birthday party. That birthday party was annoying as hell anyway. He was just invited because he was in third grade too. Who even names a kid Hunter? _Fuck fuck fuck. Focus. Stop stop stop._ Stamper guesses an internal mantra will stop his lungs from burning, but they continue until his door vibrates with two solid, pensive knocks.

Stamper doesn’t know whether to smile or weep louder.

He stands on wobbly peg-legs and decides quickly that he’ll go for a nonchalant greeting. _Hey dud--no that’s fucking stupid. Hello Mick...who the fuck says ‘Hello’ anymore? Shit, fuck, ummm…_ He thinks. Stamper places his hand on the door and purposely avoids the tiny windows on the sides of it. He sweats just a bit into his red hoodie and wipes away another group of tears congregating on his jaw.

On the other side of this door would be the missing piece to his life for the past 2 years, no matter how gay that sounds. It was him. It was the guy who he used to talk with every night until 3 AM. The guy who would always reciprocate a laugh or a life story when Stamper spurred him on. The guy who cried on his shoulder and the guy who put a steady, warm arm around Stamper when he did the same.

The guy Stamper missed _terribly_ and jacked off to at least twice a month since he moved out.

The door opens magically and Stamper swears a supernatural force guides his hand. He gazes ahead. A beat of silence follows as the two stare.

Mick’s balder than he was before, if that’s even possible. He’s also skinnier, but not in a bad way. He grew out a salt-and-pepper beard that made Stamper a little bit dazed, especially considering the many suggestions Stamper made for a beard all those years ago. He’s holding a 7-11 bag white-knuckled and it shows how great his arms look nowadays. His face lost a little bit of the jowl, but he still was Mick. One eye was higher than the other, his lips were heart-shaped (a smidge chapped), his eyebrows were strong and straight, and his skin still had that pure, gorgeous Asian glow.

Mick would allow himself to be enchanted by Stamper’s similarly changed looks if he wasn’t so bothered by the red, tear-soaked eyes admiring him with a doleful eye. Another beat of silence stretches between them, locking the two in a battle of who was going to comment about the situation first first. Mick senses Stamper’s distant fascination and decides he’ll carry the conversation. 

His eyes widen and he starts to word-vomit, “So I got some stuff from 7-11 before I got here, I’m so sorry by the way, the traffic was bad, Los Angeles y’know, but I got some crackers, some Sour Patch Kids-- M&M’s if you’re not really into sour shit--oh, and I was looking around and I saw these fucking..they’re like little doritos but they’re full of cheese and I thought they were weird so I got those too--not like I’m gonna eat them but I thought they were kinda funny--oh, I also got some drinks, I got just water and some sprite and ginge-”

The conversation ends when Stamper wraps his arms all the way around Mick’s chest and just holds. Mick stutters for a second but his thoughts are enveloped in the man who’s hugging him like he’s never hugged anyone ever. The sun is beating down on the two and Stamper’s death-hold is far too warm for comfort, but Mick’s arms swallow Stamper up and his head sits on Stamper’s head. The 7-11 bag drops onto Stamper’s porch but neither were going to miss the Cheese Doritos.

Stamper weeps into Mick’s shirt and the other rubs tiny circles into his back, tangled in a wordless duet of emotions where Stamper’s holding the man so hard that he feels he melts into him. Mick feels his heart beating to the same speed as Stamper’s and he just feels like he’s at home. It spurs a tear out of him and he hugs the other tighter. 

Eventually, both realize they’ve been hugging a little too long and pull back, just far enough where they’re both still tangled together but their faces are parallel. Stamper giggles softly just looking at Mick’s face and jokes, “Why are you crying too, faggot?” Mick laughs, and Stamper snorts again, saying “Taking all my damn thunder, Jesus.” 

Mick inhales and tilts his head at Stamper in a truly endearing way. It reminds Stamper of his cat Sushi and how she would use her heads as a silent command of love or food. Stamper can’t tell which one Mick wants but something about his brown eyes filled with love and tears propels him forward. 

Stamper steps a little closer and wipes his thumb across Mick’s drying tears. For a second, he feels his breath on his cheeks and beams, but Mick moves even closer. He murders Stamper in a moment.

Lips. His lips are on Stamper’s lips. Lips together. Mick lips. Stamper’s brain short-circuits completely and he swears he feels his legs nearly crumble to the ground. Mick’s hand goes on his neck and Stamper’s hand slots on his waist, but they part for a moment. The two breathe in and out synchronized until Mick smirks.

“Your lips are fuckin--I should’ve bought Chapstick at the 7-11 too.” Stamper’s hand strikes his chest and the two dissolve into laughter, both feeling ecstasy at the other’s presence, not even thinking about anything else in the world. Even when they start to pack Stamper’s things, they’re distracted just laughing at each other or making out or listening to music.

The two cry even harder when they remember that Stamper has to leave once they finish packing. Instead of thinking about it or making any plans, Mick lays down on a single, unpacked blanket and pats the section next to him. Until the morning, Stamper’s head is buried in Mick’s chest while Mick cradles Stamper, just like the day before. The two neither speak, nor cry, nor joke. They bask in each other’s existence for the night and pray that they have another day together.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i feel like i have to start with an apology tbh. i'm sorry to the supermega stans that only read my shit for ryatt, but i have definitely shifted away from that fandom into the sleepycabin fandom. 
> 
> i grew out of writing hardcore over the past year but i'm def trying to move more into it now that i have ample quarantine time nowadays!
> 
> i don't really have any @'s to share but please take care of yourselves and have a great day!


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